Devil's Rising, the Plight of Sanctuary
by Akuma Kon
Summary: After the battle of Tristram, Diablo has taken control of the warrior who defeated him. A single paladin, Stryker the twin brother of Vallin the warrior, must forge together a band of outcasts and heroes to stop Diablo once and for all. Rated M for mature
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hello readers. If you've read any of my previous works, then you already know not to expect regular updates. If you are one of my previous readers, I would like to apologize for not updating, but my muse is currently off to who knows where.

Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its subsidiary components. That honor belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Without further ado, let us begin the story.

Prologue

"Two years. That is how long it has been. How long it has been since we did combat, my dear opponent, my rival, my vessel. I remember it as if it were yesterday, watching you though my hellish means as you fought down through the twisted catacombs and the layers of hell beneath. Tristram was such an unsuspecting village. Hehehe, so much fun it was to instill Terror into their hearts, to deprive them of sleep for the fear that they or their loved ones would be dead upon awakening.

Ah, that's right, I never told you how it came to be. A priest of Zakarum was sent to the town to shepherd them into the light. They never suspected he had stolen my soulstone. Nor that he would spirit away the king's son. Do you know how I was finally released? My soulstone was imbedded into the head of the young prince. That's right, my former vessel was the son of your ruler. I bet you didn't suspect that.

That's just another thing to add to your list of crimes, and your list of sins. Yes, that's right. I know of your murder of the sorcerer. He saved your insignificant life several times, but in the heat of a fierce battle you struck him down. You thrust your blade through the back of his skull while he and the rogue were busy fighting the skeletons and Fallen that surrounded you, ambushed you. It was I who kept them from attacking you while you committed the foul deed. Then you cried out as you killed a nearby fallen, making the rogue think you were avenging the sorcerer's death.

Then there's the rogue. The lies you told her, that you cared for her, loved her. You used her and betrayed her. When you camped that final night in the last level of the catacomb you seduced her for your own pleasure. You used and abused her throughout the night, yet she thought it was naught but the ultimate act of love. Hah!

Then, upon my gate mere hours after you awoke, you killed her. You embraced her lovingly, kissing her. But all the while you drew her hunting knife before stabbing her in the back. Her face was priceless. She realized your betrayal too late. She lived just long enough to hear how you killed the sorcerer, how you made her love you, how you used her, how you abhorred her. All for you own sick, twisted pleasure. Then, just before she died, you used her body again. She couldn't resist for your blow had paralyzed her from the neck down. When you were finished you slit her throat.

Then you gathered the items you needed from her corpse, as you did with the sorcerer. Finally you released the seal to combat me. I gazed upon you, judging you. You would have made a great leader in hell, if your soul would have survived the horror and pain of the Turning. But then I saw something else. The seed of fear in your soul that lead you to kill the sorcerer, and in turn rogue so that you could gain the items necessary to survive your confrontation with me. The seed that had blossomed into a beautiful yet twisted flower under my constant influence. I will admit that I was surprised that you were the one who developed so greatly. I knew then that you would be a much better vessel than the child who cowered before me in the corners of his mind.

And so we fought. I made sure to give you a challenge as I implanted false ideas into your own mind. I made sure you thought your victory was hard won. And when you finally defeated me, you took the soulstone. Because of my manipulation, you thought that the only way to defeat me entirely was to imbed the stone into your own head. I decided then that I would wait for the right moment to wrest control from you. I let you think that you had won.

Over the weeks and months after, I slowly spread my influence over you. Slowly I took control. Slowly I became me again. All the meanwhile, the villagers celebrated my defeat. Then, without warning, I seized control. There was no more need to pretend. I left. Only that old fool, Deckard Cain, was witness to me leaving. As I strode east, I set the groundwork for another gate to hell to open on the outskirts of the village. It would not awaken for a matter of weeks, but it was never suspected.

I eventually let you take control again, but made sure that you always continued east. Then, something I had not dared hope for in my darkest of dreams. You stopped at an inn in the mountain pass. I felt his soul. The one who I needed to release my brother. Marius. Only he held the weakness to be so dominated by myself and my brother. I reclaimed my earlier control. I could not afford to have you fail me. I unleashed evil upon the inn, releasing skeletons and crawlers. I bid them attack all but Marius. He watched with detached horror at the scene before him. And then I left, leaving the urge to follow me in his fragile mind. We kept heading east, down the mountain pass and into the desert. Marius stumbling behind us.

And now, here we are. Sitting in the middle of the desert, so close to finding my brother and releasing him from his bindings. I feel that you are keeping a secret from me, but it is of no consequence. I will find out soon enough. But no matter, soon I will be able to take total control, and you will die, my vessel. Your soul will go to hell. There is no redemption for you. You are mine, and you will lead my armies, in time."

XxXxX

Stryker rose from his sleeping mat swiftly, holding his sword before him. The young paladin looked around with his haunted dark eyes, breathing hard. Sweat formed upon his tanned brow, and soaked through his plain cloth tunic. A simple silver cross on a leather cord hung about his neck, glistening in the dim fire light.

Upon the horizon, or what was visible from the moor the paladin was camped on, the sun's rays brightened the seemingly eternal gray clouds that blanketed the sky. The overcast sky had cast a dreadful pall over the land of Westmarch for the last two years. The only times it changed were when it rained, then the sky would become darker.

The young man sat back upon his bedroll, returning his sword to its sheathe on the ground beside him. He wiped his brow before he rolled up his mat, attaching it to the top of his travel pack. He quickly dug out the provisions for a quick breakfast which he heated above the dwindling fire.

"Blessed be the Light," the paladin begin to pray, "that which guides us in our daily strife. Blessed are the angels and the archangels who serve the light, and protect and guide us in our endeavors. May I be blessed and guided as I strive to rid the world of the blight that has come over us recently. Heavens guide my blade this day, and lift my shield to defend me as I perform my duties. I thank you for watching over me as I slept and I pray that you continue to watch over me. In the name of the Light, amen."

With his prayer finished, he removed his food from the fire and quickly consumed it, thinking upon his nightmare. They had began almost two years ago, the same time that his twin brother, Vallin, had gone to Tristram to fight the demonic scourge that had appeared there. When Stryker left to go join the paladins of Zakarum in the eastern jungles of Kurast, his brother had not agreed. They had not spoken for years. Then one day, two years ago, the paladin received a letter from his brother stating that he was going to Tristram to fight the evil there, and perhaps find untold riches.

A single tear started to form in Stryker's eye, but he quickly wiped it away. Finished with his meal, the young man donned his worn armor. He finished by strapping his sword baldric to his waist. He slid his pack over his shoulders and proceeded to where the rogue band told him the encampment was.

It was mid morning by the time the paladin arrived. As he approached he saw two rogues guarding the entrance. They steadied their bows on him when he was well within range. He held his hands level with his eyes as he walked carefully to the gate.

"Halt," one rogue demanded from the top of the gate. She was dressed differently from the other rogues, but Stryker figured that it was because she was an officer. "Who approaches the encampment of the Sisters of the Sightless Eye?"

The paladin answered as calmly as he could, but he couldn't help the slight nervousness that crept into his voice. "I am Stryker, a paladin of the church of Zakarum. My order has sent me on a mission to quell the blight that has risen all over the lands of Sanctuary."

"Quite odd for a paladin to travel alone, much less so under armored," the rogue captain replied.

"I was forced to sell much of my gear for provisions to last long enough to see me safely here," the young man responded.

"I see that you mean us no threat. Proceed through the gate, I will meet you down there momentarily," the rogue said.

Stryker proceeded forward cautiously, but the rogues guarding the gate had already removed their arrows from their bows. As he strode forward, the gate opened wide enough for him to enter. When he was in, the gates closed soundly. Before him stood the rogue from before. She had long red hair that was topped with a black leather circlet. She wore what looked like a dress of scale armor, black leather boots, a black leather belt, and black leather bracers. She was unarmed save for a dagger tucked into the right side of the belt. She wasn't beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive. Stryker did have to admit, she was more muscular than he thought a woman should be.

"Welcome, outlander, to our glorious hovel," she smirked sarcastically. Stryker could see that hovel was right. Despite the log walls and the large gate, which coincidentally held the only battlement in the entire camp, the camp was really just a mess of tattered tents a few caravan wagons. And some enterprising soul had set up a forge in the back corner. Live stock freely roamed with the walls, and all of the rogues within had grim looks. "I am Kashya. I know you're here to here to fight the evil that has driven us from our ancestral home. But understand this, Akara may be our spiritual leader but I command the rogues in battle. It will take more than killing a few beasts to earn my trust. Now then, Akara wishes to speak with you. She is in the purple tent in the south east corner."

"Thank you, Kashya," Stryker said. "I will endeavor to earn your trust in the time I spend here. Light guide you."

Kashya was silent as the paladin wandered off to find Akara's tent.


	2. Chapter 2

Stryker lifted the flap of the purple pavilion. Inside was an mature woman wearing purple robes and a purple cloak. "My name is Stryker, a paladin of the Zakarum. I was told that Akara was looking to speak with me. Are you she?"

"I am Akara," the woman said, her eyes and hair hidden by the cowl of her cloak. "I am the high priestess of the Sisters of the Sightless Eye. I welcome you, Stryker the paladin, to our camp, though I am afraid I can offer you little shelter within these rickety walls. If you wish, you may stay in the travelers tent near the gate."

"Thank you for your hospitality," Stryker said, bowing his head respectfully. "The purpose of my visit is to rid the land of blight that appeared recently."

"I see. In that case, I shall test you for your sincerity," Akara said. "There is a place of great evil in the wilderness. Kashya's rogue scouts have reported to me that a cave nearby is filled with shadowy creatures and horrors from beyond the grave. If you are sincere in your desire to help us, find the dark labyrinth and destroy the darkness with. You are not the first traveler I have sent, you may encounter them on your way there, or even inside the cave itself. May the great eye watch over you."

"And the Light guide you," Stryker said as he stood. He bowed slightly to the woman before leaving the tent.

After asking one of the rogues for directions, he found the traveler's tent. Quickly finding an empty bunk, he set his pack down on it before checking his immediate provisions. On his belt he had half a dozen health potions, a pouch with a decent amount of gold, and a water skin half full. He'd need to fill it again within the next few days. In a pouch that was attached to his belt he had enough food to last three days. His baldric was attached to his belt as well. His worn leather armor was pitted and scarred, and his slightly rusted iron shortsword was dinged as well.

'Might as well stop by that forge,' he thought to himself.

He left the tent and approached the forge which wasn't too far away. On the way he passed by a strange mark on the ground. It was a square with an eye in the middle. At the two corners of the square where the corners of the eye touched was a blue flame that emitted no heat. In the center of the eye was a the cross of the Church of Zakarum.

Not even a minute after passing the mark he was at the forge. There was a a muscular woman busy at work. She wore black boots, thick black leather gloves that went back to her elbows, and a black sleeveless shirt that revealed muscles that were larger than Kashya's, even larger than Stryker's. Over her all that she wore a black smithing apron. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, though a few wild strands fell onto her face.

"Excuse me," Stryker had to yell over the roar of the forge.

"Huh?" the woman asked turning around, letting off the bellows and allowing the fire to drop down to a quiet enough to speak regularly. "Oh, hi there! I'm Charsi, the blacksmith here in camp. It's good to see some strong adventurers around here. A large number of the rogues here were corrupted by Andariel before they could escape the monastary. So, what can I do for you?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you Charsi," the young man said. "I'm Stryker, a paladin for the Church of Zakarum. As you can see, my equipment is in poor repair. I was thinking about getting it replaced."

"Well, you've come to the right place," the muscular woman said cheerfully. "I can't make the really good stuff here, but I'm not one of the best smiths in Westmarch for no reason. Let me see what I have." Without waiting for a reply, the woman started digging around in the crates and chests around the forge. She picked a few items out of each before returning to the paladin. "Since you're a paladin, I assumed you use heavy armor. I'm sorry that we don't have any plate armor, but I found a full set of chainmail that you might be interested in."

"Thank you, but I need a new weapon too," Stryker said, drawing his sword and setting it down on the table that Charsi had placed the armor.

"Now that won't do at all," the blacksmith said picking the sword up. "This blade uses a much inferior metal, and it's much unbalanced. It's no wonder it's so damaged. Hold on one second." She tossed the blade into the scrap pile before heading to one of her weapons racks. "Do you prefer the short blade, or do you want a longer one?"

"Something in the middle if you can," the paladin answered.

"I have just the thing for you. Do you want a shield with that?" Charsi asked.

"Yes please," Stryker said.

"A larger one I assume," the woman said to herself. She quickly found a kite shield that the young man would like. As an after thought, she grabbed a simple helm from a rack too. "Here we are."

"How much?" Stryker asked.

"Normally," Charsi said, "this would all cost around eight hundred gold." Stryker flinched. That was all he really had right now. "But seeing as you are helping us out, and you made it this far with inferior equipment, I'll give it to you for three hundred fifty." She leaned in close and whispered conspiritorily "Don't tell anyone."

"Not a word," the paladin promised. He quickly changed out of his old equipment and into his new. "Do what you like with the that," he gestured at the pile of leather on the ground.

"No problem," Charsi said with a smile. "Take care out there."

"You too," Stryker nodded. He stopped by his tent and pulled out a surcoat to put over his armor. It was white with a an embroidered silver cross. When he was finished he nodded and left the tent. As he approached the gate, Kashya walked up to him.

"I heard from Akara what you're doing," the redheaded rogue said. "You better come through with this. Your reputation depends on it." Then she assumed a somewhat cheerful, whimsical pose. "That cave has claimed many of my rogues. I wonder how you will fare... Oh well, open the gates so that our esteemed guest may go forth and fight the terror that plagues us!"

The young man said nothing as he strode through the gates. Once more they closed soundly behind him. Without any hesitation, the paladin walked off in the direction that he felt seemed the most foul. Within ten minutes he was out of site of the rogue encampment. He bowed his head and muttered a quick prayer to the Light. He didn't travel too much further before he heard the sounds of combat ahead of him. He drew his sword and charged forward.

Around the bend he found a large man fighting a horde of red skinned Fallen. The man was huge, having muscles that were almost as large as Stryker's head. He wore a leather kilt with matching boots. His bracers were studded with steel, and he wore a leather harness that connected to the pauldron on his right shoulder. In the center of the harness, on his chest was a large steel ring. In the man's hands was a large battleaxe.

The large man roared as he bifurcated a Fallen that had leapt at him. There were too many of the demonic minions for the man alone though. So the paladin yelled "For the Light!" as he charged into the fray. Swinging his new sword, he noticed how much easier it cleaved through the flesh of the his enemies. One of the minions slammed down its club, but Stryker blocked it with his shield before shoving backwards, forcing the Fallen within range of the large man's axe. Within moments, the Fallen were dead or routed.

"They won't be back anytime soon," the large man said in a surprising civilized voice as he harnessed his axe. "I thank you for my assistance, friend. I am Beroth, whirlwind of the north. I am a barbarian, though I believe that you noticed that already." It was the first time Stryker saw his face in detail. He had strong yet kind features, and his black hair was gathered into a ponytail.

"Indeed," the paladin said, sheathing his sword. "It is an honor to fight alongside one of the esteemed warriors of the Entsteig. I am Stryker, paladin of the Church of Zakarum."

"The way you say it sounds like you've been introducing yourself a lot today," the barbarian clapped the young man on the shoulder.

"I have," Stryker said with a grimace, rubbing his shoulder. This caused Beroth to laugh heartily.

"I assume that the priestess sent you out here to find this Den of Evil as well," the large man said.

"Yes, she did," the young man nodded.

"Then let us travel together," the barbarian said. "After all, two fighters are better than one."

"I don't see any reason why not," the paladin said. "While we travel, I would like to hear more of your homeland."

"Of course, friend. Most people just assume that it's a barren wasteland," the barbarian began as the two followed the trail that would lead right to the cave.


	3. Chapter 3

"Then there was the time that Thagnar and I went hunting boar. We never found one, but on our way down the mountain Thagnar fell tripped over a loose stone and fell onto an imp. The thing was sleeping and never knew we were there. The imp was so mad that he cast a spell that made Thagnar float above the ground for three days. I had to pull him through the air back into our village. I couldn't stop laughing the entire time," Beroth laughed.

Stryker was laughing too. Beroth was definitely an interesting person. So far the barbarian had told him of many of the embarrassing things that happened in his presence. Sometimes he was just an innocent bystander, like with the imp. Other times, well how was he to know that the village elder was balding and needed that potion?

The pair had been walking for an hour. They had ran into a group of three zombies, several isolated quillrats, and a few more Fallen. At some point they decided to loot their kills, and were pleasantly surprised to find that many of them carried some amount of gold. Beroth even found a set of throwing axes that he could use. He proved to the paladin that he could use them very well.

"I think we should be near the cave," Beroth said once he was finished laughing.

"I smell something foul nearby," Stryker said. "Over there, near that hill."

The pair drew their preferred weapons and cautiously approached the hill. After a few seconds, the barbarian could smell the same thing as the paladin. When they reached the base of the hill, they crept up the side until they came to the top. Seeing nothing yet, the paladin peered over the drop off.

"I think we found out cave," the young man said. As he jumped down, the barbarian followed suit. "Let's go."

"Hold on a minute, friend," the barbarian said. He grabbed a torch out of his pack and lit it. "Now I'm ready to go."

Stryker nodded and led the way into the cave. As he entered the darkness, a soft glow of light illuminated the cave around him. The barbarian stared in astonishment.

"The church gives its paladins a cross made of silver," Stryker explained without looking at his companion. "This cross is enchanted to cast a light around the holder. The light serves two main purposes. The first, and most obvious, is to allow the holder to see in the darkness and to combat any enemies. The range is only around five meters in radius. The secondary reason-"

The paladin was cut off as an inhuman cry came from the depths of the cave. A Fallen entered the range of the light and leapt at the young man, and was promptly skewered my his blade.

"The second reason is that it attracts the servants of Hell. It lowers their ability to think, but it also provokes them into attacking," Stryker finished.

"I understand," Beroth said. "I think we should split up to clear out this cave. It seems like it's too large to stay together, but small enough that we'll be able to find each other quickly."

"That sounds reasonable," Stryker said. "But keep an eye out. Akara said there were others here at her bidding."

"I'll keep that in mind," Beroth said. "Take care, friend."

"You too," Stryker said before darting off to one side. The paladin held his blade at the ready, but kept his muscles loose. There was no sense in tiring himself out before he even got into combat.

The young man followed the corridor down to a small chamber. There was an exit to either side, and a small set of stairs going to the lower level. In the middle of the lower level was a group of Fallen. The young man growled. The Fallen were dancing around a fire, cackling with glee. But this is not what the paladin was growling at. At the center of the fire was a wooden post, and tied to this post was a rogue.

The woman was not dead, but from her wounds it wouldn't be long. Maybe a few more minutes, with treatment. Much less without. The woman was struggling to get away from the fire as much as she could. Every so often a tongue of flame would lick out and sear a part of the rogue's leg, causing her to scream in pain. This screaming would cause the Fallen to chatter wildly.

Stryker charged the Fallen, falling upon the demonic minions like a storm. His blade flashed in the firelight as he killed all of the Fallen he laid his eyes on. When there were no more of the creatures in sight, he kicked the fire out of the way and cut the rogue's bindings.

"Thank you," the woman gasped.

"You won't live long. Even if I treated all your wounds and gave you all of my health potions," Stryker said as he supported her head.

"I know," she wheezed out. "Listen, there's an undead in the depths of the cave. It... it's not like the others. It's intelligent. It commands the other things here, the undead, the Fallen, the gargantuans. Kill it, and the others will flee."

"I will," Stryker promised.

"Thank you," the rogue said as she closed her eyes and breathed no more.

"May the Light guide you to paradise," the paladin said as he laid the woman on the ground.

A shriek from behind him caused the paladin to spin. A group of three Fallen were flying through the air at the him. He didn't have enough time to get his shield up, not enough time to bring his sword to bear. He could only watch helplessly as the Fallen brought their weapons to bear.

Three white blurs flashed past the young man, and embedded themselves in the chests of the Fallen. The three demonic minions fell to the ground in heaps. A few yellow sparkles appeared above the bodies of the other Fallen, just as the corpse rose clearly alive. Another white blur disappeared into the darkness as the paladin killed the freshly risen Fallen.

"It is so unlike a paladin to drop his guard, especially in the lair of foul beasts of darkness," a smooth voice said.

Stryker spun around to see an aged yet tall man with cropped white hair. He wore a strange black scale armor with what looked like bones on it. On the man's right shoulder was the skull of a demon or some other similar creature.

"Who are you?" Stryker asked, keeping his shield between him and the other man.

"I am one of the disciples of Rathma, though most call me a necromancer. As for my name, it is Jeran," the man said.

"Thank you for saving me priest of Rathma," the paladin said. "I am in your debt."

"How odd. Most paladins would attack a necromancer as soon as they recognized what he was," Jeran mused.

"I am not most paladins. You have done nothing to harm me, and I have yet to see you deal in the black arts," the young man said.

"Are your words wisdom or foolishness, I wonder," the necromancer said. "Only time will tell I guess."

Jeran turned around and walked the way Stryker had come from.

"There's nothing back that way," the paladin said.

The necromancer turned to look over his shoulder. "I know. Now that you are back on guard, I doubt the clearing of the cave will last much longer. I am going to keep guard on the exit." He took a few more steps before stopping again. He pointed at the tunnel to the paladins left. "That passage is a dead end. I've already killed the two Fallen that I found there, and there are no treasures."

"Thank you," Stryker said as the older man finished walking away. The paladin stood up and proceeded to the last passage way.

XxXxX

"Dammit Greld, how is it that you always get us into these situations?" a strained female voice asked from somewhere ahead of Beroth's position. The only response was an animalistic growl. "Don't talk to me in that tone of voice! It's not my fault that your incredible sense of smell failed in here."

The barbarian set his torch on the ground and edged forward to get a better look in front of him. He saw what looked like a large bipedal wolf standing back to back with a dark clothed woman. They were surrounded by a group of three gargantuans, six Fallen, and four zombies.

"Alright, what's the plan?" the woman asked, to which the werewolf growled sheepishly. "Fine then, I'll make the plans from now on. Now how to get out of this mess."

Beroth smirked. He grasped his axe in both hands and let loose a fierce battle cry, leaping onto the shoulders of one of the gargantuan beasts. He swung the weapon into the face of the creature before jumping into the group of Fallen. The force from the blow caused the minions to fall to the ground, stunned.

The woman moved quickly, a katar in each hand. She quickly dispatched two of the zombies with quick slices to the head before leaping behind the other two and stabbing into their heads.

The werewolf leaped at one of the two remaining gargantuans, using his superior speed to his advantage. He would swipe his massive claws at the thing before hopping back and repeating the process.

Beroth quickly grabbed one of his throwing axes and slung it into the throat of the last gargantuan. The large furry creature began clawing at its neck trying to remove the deadly object. It was so focused on its task that it didn't register the woman thrusting a blade into the back of its head until it was too late.

"Good day for battle, is it not friends?" Beroth said.

"Any day is a good day for battle," the woman said.

Beroth took an appreciative look at her. She had shoulder length dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. She wore dark leather armor that blended in well with the shadows, but left her thighs completely exposed.

"I am Beroth, whirlwind of the north," the barbarian introduced himself.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Beroth. I am Sable, assassin of nowhere in particular," the woman said.

The werewolf began what looked like a painful metamorphosis back into a human. He was tall and muscular like a barbarian, but he wore leather and fur clothes. In his hand was a elegant yet rough spear. He had light brown hair and beard and a fierce scowl. "I'm Greld, druid of Scosglen."

"Perhaps we should continue to travel together," Beroth suggested.

"That sounds like a swell idea," the assassin said cheerfully. "I'll scout ahead." Before anyone could stop her, she was gone like a shadow.

"Damned woman," the druid mumbled as he proceeded down the tunnel that Sable vanished down. Beroth had no choice but to follow.

XxXxX

Stryker poised himself in a defensive position in front of the tunnel. He had heard two sets of footsteps that sounded as though they belonged to large beings.

"Damn dark cave," one voice said. "Almost makes you wonder if the Light hates us."

"I can't believe I forgot my torch," said another one that was familiar to the paladin.

"Beroth, is that you?" the young man called out.

"Stryker?" the second voice called out.

"It's probably a damned trap," the first voice said. "Wait, what's that light?"

Two large men entered the field of light that the paladin's cross emitted. One was indeed Beroth, but the other was one that Stryker didn't recognize.

"Greld, this is Stryker, a paladin of Zakarum. Stryker, Greld is a druid of Scosglen," the barbarian said.

"Pleased to meet you," Stryker said as he turned to look down the last tunnel. "I thought I heard something moving down there before I arrived, but then I heard you two so I stopped to wait."

"Must have been Sable, the damned woman," Greld mumbled.

"What's wrong with him?" Stryker asked his barbarian friend.

"Only the Light knows, if even that much," Beroth said sagely.

Stryker shook his head. "I'll lead the way then. Stay close to me."

The paladin led the way down the last declining tunnel. Several times the larger men had to duck to avoid the odd stalactite hanging from the ceiling. The tunnel continued down for a few hundred feet more before leveling out.

The paladin had just reached the exit of the tunnel when he heard a woman's scream. Without hesitating, the young man dashed ahead, leaving the druid and barbarian to swear as they stumbled in the sudden darkness.

Stryker came upon two women against a wall in front of a glowing zombie. He couldn't see the things face, but he could hear its voice.

"It has been so long since I have tasted the sweet flesh of any women, least of all two as beautiful as you," the thing rasped. "You will be such a treat for me to eat. Hehe, I made a rhyme."

The paladin let loose a battle cry as he charged at the zombie. The glowing undead turned casually, faster than a normal zombie, and stared at the holy warrior. The young man thrust his blade deep into the heart of the undead.

"You must not fight zombies much," the glowing figure said. "The only way to kill a zombie is by damaging its brain." With one hand, the zombie backhanded the young man in the chest, sending him flying into the wall, leaving his blade embedded in the heart of the undead. Stryker coughed up a bit of blood. "That's an odd scent. I haven't smelt it in years. Could it be?" The undead walked over to the young man and squatted before him. With one finger, the zombie wiped up some of the blood off of the paladins face before bringing it to his mouth. "Ah, it is. I would recognize that delectable taste anywhere. The blood of a virgin. And one so virtuous too."

"Too bad you won't get to enjoy it," Stryker chuckled.

"Oh, and why is that?" the undead asked.

"This!" Several voices yelled at once.

The world was a blur of motion before there were several blades buried in the head of the zombie. Stryker had grasped his sword and ripped upward to the head, the druid had stabbed his spear into the head of the zombie from the side, one of the women had shot an arrow into the other side. Another woman who had appeared from seemingly nowhere had thrust a katar blade into the top, the last woman had sent a bolt of ice that pierced just below the arrow. In the back of the zombies head was Beroth's axe.

"And so the den of evil is cleansed," the paladin said as heavenly light pierced the gloom of the cave.


End file.
